Stay
by wildwordwomyn
Summary: Hotch tries to see inside Morgan and is seen in the process.


**Title:** Stay

**Author:** wildwordwomyn

**Word Count:** 1,028

**Fandom:** Criminal Minds

**Pairing:** Aaron Hotchner/Derek Morgan

**Rating:** PG-13

**Author's Notes:** This was originally for another community that I belong to but it wouldn't work for that one so I'm posting it here. The prompt was "Is it fear or courage that compels you?" and the story had to deal with rape recovery in some way. It was the quote that got to me…

**Disclaimers/Warnings:** Yup, I'm getting anything from this except a free, fictional story.

**Summary:** Hotch tries to see inside Morgan and is seen in the process.

"Is it fear or courage that compels you?" Hotch asks when we're alone in the BAU office.

"What?" The question takes me by surprise since it is 9 pm and everyone else has gone home. A minute ago he'd been in his office finishing up some paperwork, as was I.

"Is it fear or courage that compels you?" he repeats.

Now, the man is strange. A great man to work for and someone you want to have your back when the going gets rough. But sometimes he has a way of looking at me, of looking into me that makes me wish he wasn't so good at his job. Last year a particularly bad Un Sub took me hostage for a night. In the span of 8 hours he turned my world upside down. I've only told my colleagues about the beatings. What I have yet to admit to is…

"Compels me to what?" I counter to stall.

"Stay. Do what you do. Be here."

"Hotch-"

"I know his M.O., Morgan. Muscular Black men, over-powering with chloroform, moving to an out-of-the-way location, breaking the victim down physically before-"

"Before?" I say, cutting him off. I want to turn my head, hell, turn my back on him just to get away from that look, but I can't. "Before? After? None of it matters now. We caught him and he can't hurt anyone anymore."

"But it does matter, doesn't it? To you…" I shake my head and sigh. "To the BAU. To me."

I'm surprised at that last part. At how revealing it sounds. Because the truth is we'd started…something…a few months before the incident. His looks had a different edge to them then. His wife had divorced him and moved away with his son. His eyes began to haunt me. His hands. And then one night when we were the last to leave he'd asked me to have dinner with him. He didn't want to be alone. That was obvious, but he also wanted something else. I assumed it was to talk about his personal life. Instead we talked about favorite books. Cooking for one. How to best get out of a choke-hold. Other things we'd never really talked about before. Hotch opened up to me, and I, despite myself, to him. But that was as far as it got. Talking and a couple stare contests. But now? Now seems too far from then.

"I'm sorry," I say meaningfully.

"Don't be." He's disappointed. I think maybe I am too. Suddenly he's in my face, looking again, and when I try to back away an eyebrow quirks. I fight not to flinch, not to show how his maleness scares me in a way it never used to. "Don't be sorry, Morgan," he says. "And don't be afraid."

"I'm not," I reply automatically.

"Then answer the question."

My fingers begin to curl into fists and I wonder how fast my career would get flushed down the toilet if I hit him. "Both! Okay? Both!"

His hand rises slowly, cautiously, to my shoulder. When it palms my cheek my body goes still. The moment reminds me of being molested as a kid, of the rape. Of freezing and feeling trapped. He caresses my cheekbone softly. I'm not sure what he sees in my eyes but it seems to comfort him because he visibly relaxes. He tells me to stop him if I'm not interested and leans in to kiss me. His lips pressed against mine are gentle and his movements are sure and slow, as if giving me time to reconsider. I don't, though. I kiss him back just as slowly, stunned by how much better it feels than I'd imagined. Good enough for me to open his mouth and slide my tongue in. The longer we kiss the more turned on I get, the harder I push into him. The deeper I need to feel him.

"Wait, wait!" he whispers, breaking away with his hands on my shoulders. I try to kiss him again, hungry now for more. "Morgan, no!" he demands in a firm tone.

"But I thought…I mean you….." I back up, thinking I moved too fast, that he doesn't really want me, that I was just kidding myself.

"You're not ready for this yet, Morgan." He smiles tenderly. "And neither am I." Somehow, of all the things I expect him to say, this is not it. "You're recovering from a rape and I'm still getting over my divorce. I'm not saying I don't want to. I just think we should take our time. Date. Get to know each other."

I grin. "'Get to know each other?' Hotch, I know you in ways you don't even know yourself." But I can easily see us arguing over who pays for dinner and profiling movies we watch together.

"So show me what you know." I laugh like I haven't in a year. This time when I shake my head I don't sigh. "There are situations where time is a good thing."

"…Date, huh? I guess I could do that. If you're willing…"

He gazes deep into my eyes. "Fear and courage…" When Hotch smiles there's something sweet and sad in his expression. Maybe because he does it so little. It makes him look old and young all at once. I know he's giving us permission to explore this, whatever _this_ is. I release the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding in relief. "They go hand in hand."

"Yeah, man. Always." It hits me then how afraid he is. Of life without his ex. Of silent nights without his son to ease his pain. Of me. And I wonder if it's worth it, if in the end whatever I have left to offer will be enough. I think I'd like to take the chance anyway. "Sometimes you have to close your eyes and jump and hope you land on solid ground."

"Faith. Morgan, I thought you weren't a believer."

"I don't have to have faith in God to believe."

I don't add that having faith in him is a given. I don't have to. It's the only reason why _he_ stays.

End.


End file.
